The Happier Ending
by azuresoul
Summary: This is an alternative ending for Moulin Rouge, for all those who are still in denial about Satine's death or those who just love a bit of sappy romance!


"That way, I'll always be with you," she gasped with her final breath. Wanting to kiss her one last time, Christian pressed his lips to hers, hoping he could give her breath. Breath enough to live, even.

There was silence. Christian strained over the noise of applause for any small sound from his love, but none came. A wave of agony washed over Christian, taking hold of him so fiercely with such vice that he couldn't breathe. The irony, he thought.

Just as his mind ceased to work, fresh air rushed into his lungs, and a long cry of agonised, tortured grief split the night air. He couldn't stop; he was violently shaking. He hugged Satine into him, and just let the grief wash over him, until his mind was drowned and he became numb.

The doctor finally arrived, as ordered by Christian. He had now come to do the one thing that Christian couldn't bear right now, and that was to take Satine away from him.

"You're too late," grated Christian's voice. Christian wasn't aware he was speaking – the words were coming from somewhere else – and he just felt like he was floating through existence. All he could hear was his own breathing. And all he wished was that it would stop. That way he could always be with Satine.

When the doctor tried to lift Satine from Christian, his mind snapped back to some sort of coherent sense. He insisted that he had to take her away. But Christian didn't want to let her go. Ho could not accept that she was gone. He _wouldn't_ accept that she was gone. He couldn't let go because that meant accepting that he could never speak to her again, kiss her, make love to her, breathe her in, or tell her just _how_ much he loved her. A fresh wave of grief washed over him at this point, and his tears felt like torrents.

He stood up, never leaving Satine's touch. He wanted to make sure she was warm. He wanted to make sure she was warm. He picked her up (not her body – her – of that he was determined). He picked her up, and carried her all the way outside. Her arms were stiff, so they were looped gracefully yet tightly around his neck, they way they had been in her final few moments. It looked like he was carrying his love asleep. Her face was smiling and nuzzled in his neck. It took every inch of strength Christian possessed to make it to the Ambulance; not because Satine's weight was too much, but because every step he took freshly ripped open the wound in his heart. He collapsed into a seat, Satine sitting across his lap, still hugging his neck.

When they got to the hospital, Christian stood up and once again carried her in, his mind back in a numb state. They were shown into a room promptly and very quickly after explaining to a nurse that no, Satine was not asleep, and, _no_, they _couldn't_ wait in the waiting room.

Christian sat on the bed. He threw the pillows off the bed and rested his back against the headboard, lifting Satine's slight figure, so that she lay out flat along the bed, with her head in Christian's lap; where he could brush her deep blazing curls out of her face, and stroke her cheek gently with the back of his hand. He gently used his thumb to close each azure eye, among racked sobs. He wanted everyone to see how beautiful she was.

Satine opened her eyes. Fast. She sat up with an enormous gasp and drew in long breaths, her eyes wide open and staring. Christian's mind couldn't take any more, and he slumped against the headboard.

The moment Christian regained consciousness, he leapt out of bed and tore to the cubicle he knew Satine was in. He threw open the door. Satine, who had been dressed in a hospital gown, woke with a start. Christian ran across the room, occasionally stumbling under his weak legs. He couldn't get across the room fast enough.

Christian clasped both sides of Satine's face, paused for an infinitesimally short second, just to look into her eyes, and kissed her hotly, with all the passion he could muster. He had to show Satine just how much he loved her, in case she was taken away from him again. He only brought himself to stop when Satine gave a little cough. She raised a hand to apologise and reassure, finished clearing her lungs, and smiled. Christian stood up, looking down on her fondly, but Satine pulled the side of his hospital gown, forcing him to sit beside her on the bed. Not having it in her to be romantic about it (she just wanted to kiss him badly) anymore, she grabbed his chin and pulled his face down towards hers. They kissed with such fire and passion they didn't notice that the electricity had failed and the lights had gone out. Christian pulled one of his hands away from her face and used it to pull back the bedcovers. He pushed himself under them, just wanting to be close to Satine once more. He wrapped his body around her. He hugged her body closer to his, returning his hand near to her face, and running his fingers through her silky hair, before resting his hand on the back of her head.

When the lights came on again, a nurse was passing by. She had been distributing candles to see by. She came across Satine's room, knocked briefly, and then entered. She left promptly, in a fit of giggles and smiled:

"That's where Mr. James go to!"

When they were finally exhausted from kissing, they lay squashed up side-by-side.

"I don't want to lose you again," breathed Christian.

"I'm not planning to go anywhere!" said Satine naughtily, rubbing her hand along the length of Christian's thigh. He smiled as she giggled seductively.

"Back in a minute," he whispered. It took every ounce of his strength to tear himself away from her, and she looked distraught.

She propped herself up and waited expectantly as the minutes dragged past. Eventually Christian returned, red in the face, and out of breath – it was obvious he had been running. He shut the door behind him and leant on it, breathing heavily. Satine swung her legs over the side of the bed and gracefully flowed over to Christian. She took his hands in hers and led him backwards. She kissed him lightly. He pulled her waist into him, and the kiss deepened. Their embers of passion once more burst into flames, until Christian dropped to his knees. Satine looked down, immediately panic-stricken. However, Christian was gazing up at her, pure adoration in his eyes, and held her hands in his.

"As I was saying, before you, Mademoiselle, so rudely interrupted," he giggled, "I don't want to lose you. I want to tell you every second of every day how much I love you. I want to make you happier than happy, and give you everything you deserve, my love. I love you. I _love_ you! I love you so much it hurts. I love you! But I can't tell you _how _much I love you, _as_ much as I'd want to. I can't tell you, but I can try to show you." He kissed her hand. "Satine," he fumbled in his pockets, produced a little box the exact hue of her hair, opened it, looked at its contents, sighed, and turned it to face her, "Satine, will you marry me?"

Satine fell to her knees and kissed him with renewed passion. She whispered in his ear:

"That was a yes, in case you were wondering…" Christian grinned, slipped the ring onto her finger, and they lay on the floor, kissing. Christian smiled, his torn soul once again complete.

Some time later, when they had both finally fallen asleep in each other's arms in the shelter of the bed, a small tapping knock came at the door, and they drifted into consciousness.

The doctor walked into the room:

"Mademoiselle Satine, may I have a word?"

Satine looked at Christian, knowing she was about to see the smile that made her heart melt and ache at the same time:

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of my fiancé." _There was that smile!_ Satine grinned back. The doctor smiled to himself. He, like so many other of the staff, had heard of the so-dubbed "Candlelight incident".

"Ok, Miss Satine. This is both extremely good news and fairly bad news."

"Go on," she said.

"You do not have consumption."

Satine squeaked in delight, and looked at Christian, her hope of spending a lifetime with him renewed; but he held a hand up as if to pause her, looking worriedly at the doctor:

"Go on," he said.

"You do, however, have a disease called Cystic Fibrosis. Now, in short, this explains everything. It means that you can't clear your lungs like a normal person can. Now sometimes the build-ups can prevent you breathing as well as you may, so you have to cough to bring up some of the debris in your lungs. Sometimes, I know this sounds horrid, if you cough too much, or too hard you can bring up part of the lining of your lungs, hence the blood. Sometimes if you overexert yourself, or can't breathe for long enough, you faint. That is what happened severely this time. But we have cleared your lungs for you. If you do a couple of exercises a day, and take some prescribed medicines, I don't see why we can't help it."

"So it's curable?" said Christian.

"No. The disease is genetic. But we can help it. With the proper care, it isn't fatal. I don't see why Miss Satine here can't lead a full, virtually normal life! By the by, what is the name of the doctor that diagnosed Miss Satine with consumption? It isn't Dr. Mayal is it?"

"Yes, why?" said Satine.

"I need to have a word with him, that's all. But, you should be out here in a couple of days, right as rain!" said the doctor.

Christian grinned and squeezed Satine's hand. The doctor turned to leave, to let them sleep again. There was no point in escorting Christian back to his cubicle, because he would either refuse or sneak back in. Satine rested her head on Christian's shoulder, still holding his hand. Just before the doctor left the room he turned around to speak. Satine lifted her head to hear what he had to say:

"Congratulations, by the way."

Satine smiled and put her head on Christian's shoulder once more, closing her eyes and snuggling up to him. He stroked her head lovingly, kissed her forehead and then leant his head against hers, closing his eyes also.

He was hers, she knew that – he had shown that completely. She was going to spend the rest of her life as devoted to him as he had been to her, to show that she was utterly his. She loved him. There was no need to reminisce on her past bad experiences, or compare this perfection to them. They had been long forgotten, as if it was a past life. She knew she had everything she would ever need in every breath of the man stroking her hair, and singing her asleep, right here next to her.

THE END.


End file.
